Tuesday, 9 March 2010

What could be worse than pouring milk in your tea and taking a huge gulp only to discover that the milk is way past its sell by date?

What could be worse than digging in the garden, reaching into the soil and putting your fingers in a huge lump of extremely malodorous cat shit?

What could be worse than the above cat shit getting stuck in your fingernails?

What could be worse than stepping down from a chair in bare feet and landing on an upturned plug?

What could be worse than accidentally tripping up a woman carrying four dozen eggs?

What could be worse then finding a huge pile of cat vomit in the middle of your carpet?

What could be worse than failing to notice the huge pile of cat vomit in the middle of your carpet (because you may have left your glasses upstairs) and then stepping into the warm sickly substance?

What could be worse than dropping your toothbrush down the toilet and having to reach in to retrieve it?

What could be worse than being such a skinflint that you actually use the same toothbrush afterwards?

What could be worse than stepping in a huge slimy dog turd, not noticing it, and then walking it through your new girlfriend’s parents’ house the very first time you met them?

What could be worse than dropping your mobile phone down the toilet?

What could be worse than wearing a dress to see the Rocky Horror Show and then allowing your mate to send it to somebody at work so that most of the company can laugh at you?

What could be worse than trying to chat up a handsome man and then dropping your drink all over your lovely new dress?

What could be worse than taking a bite out of a sandwich and then seeing a big green piece of mould right next to the bite mark?

What could be worse than having your beloved mullet cut off because you misunderstood the hairdresser’s question?

What could be worse than using one tea bag per day to make at least five cups of tea because you are a skinflint?

What could be worse than fancying a girl so much that you drink a colossal amount of ale just to pluck up the courage to talk to her and then totally humiliating yourself while insulting her in the process?

What could be worse than screaming like a girl when you see a large spider in a foreign country?

What could be worse than buying a brand new £300 mp3 player, only to use the wrong charger to charge it the first time, completely destroying it?

What could be worse than carrying a tray of beers to a table in a pub and then dropping it on the table, pouring fresh beer on all of your mates?

What could be worse than throwing up on your mate’s lap on a bus ride home?

What could be worse than holding your young baby over your head and being rewarded for making him giggle with a torrent of vomit over your face?

What could be worse than locking yourself out of you flat wearing nothing but a small dressing gown that barely hides your arse, let alone anything else?

What could be worse than being woken up by a huge fat cat leaping down from the wardrobe and landing on that part of your stomach that causes the most air to be expelled?

What could be worse than screaming like a girl when a huge fat cat leaps from a wardrobe onto your stomach?

What could be worse than a man screaming like a girl when a mild earthquake hits Manchester in the middle of the night?

What could be worse than waking up on the concourse of Victoria Station in London next to a steaming pile of vomit?

What could be worse than putting blue food dye in a mate’s beer on his stag do?

What could be worse than throwing up all over a table in an Indian restaurant having consumed copious amounts of beer, some of which was tainted with blue food dye, leaving a huge pile of steaming blue vomit for the rest of restaurant to marvel at?

What could be worse than falling into a river because you took a short cut on a cross country run?

What could be worse than having diarrhoea in a place where the only toilet around for the next three days is totally blocked?

What could be worse than waking up to find a dismembered thrush scattered around your house?

What could be worse than warning your children not to spray sun tan cream in their face because it is dangerous and then promptly spraying sun tan cream into your own face?

What could be worse than waking up and discovering a rat has eaten all of your toilet paper?

What could be worse than a rat eating all of your toilet paper when you have diarrhoea on a boat with the only usuable toilet being the worst toilet in the world?

What could be worse than throwing a glass of coke over a mate, claiming that you did it because “there was wasp in your ear”?

What could be worse than staying at a mate’s house and, in desperation, throwing up all over his freshly washed plates?

What could be worse than putting the wrong type of petrol in your car while you have three mates watching you?

What could be worse that laughing at the guy who put the wrong type of petrol in his car and then doing it yourself sometime later?

What could be worse than having a cat drop a live mouse on you “as a gift” while you were reading in bed?

What could be worse than reversing your car off the drive and hitting a parked car on the other side of the road?

What could be worse than failing to notice that you hit a parked car on the other side of the road, moving forward and then reversing into the same parked car AGAIN!

What could be worse than a woman walking into the toilet while you are perched on the throne in all your glory?

What could be worse than vomiting all over a fruit machine that was being played by a complete stranger?

What could be worse than accidentally spilling hot coffee all over your crotch while in front of customers and then having to walk around for the rest of the day looking as if you have had an accident?

What could be worse than standing admiring a brand new light grey carpet, stepping back and accidentally knocking over a glass of blackcurrant cordial all over it?

What could be worse than suggesting that you throw blackcurrant cordial over the rest of the new carpet to your wife “in order to make the stain symmetrical”?

What could be worse than watching several gallons of home made beer flooding on your kitchen floor when you accidentally tip over the barrel?

What could be worse than standing in front of a urinal just as the water pipe above decides to spring a leak and spray water all over your crotch?

What could be worse than waking up at a strange house with a colossal hangover after a party and then stupidly confessing to the owner of the house that you had thrown up all over his TV the night before?

What could be worse than being given a lift home after a party and then throwing up all over yourself?

What could be worse than finding yourself three miles from home on a Saturday afternoon, covered in vomit, having been thrown out of a car that is also full of your vomit?

What's worse than being sea sick on a ferry and throwing up in the wind, scattering it all over the place (including on other passengers)?

What could be worse than telling the Plastic Mancunian about bad things that have happened to you over the years, only to find them mentioned in a puerile blog post about bad things that have happened to people?

What could be worse than being the Plastic Mancunian and confessing that some of the things above actually happened to you?

Oh PlasMan, I feel for you, I really do, but it didn't stop me heaving with laughter reading about your sufferings!

Mine:

* Sleeping peacefully and deeply. So well that I was lying near the edge of the bed, hand drooping over the side and mouth open... only to be woken by the dog who had just slurped me right across your gob and, judging from the feel and smell, had only moments earlier been giving her own arse some careful attention.

* Having an attack of diarrhoea as a ten year old during a family camping holiday. Dad was intent on driving home with as few stops as possible and I eventually, well, 'erupted' is a good way of putting it. The orange fountain exploded over the back of my jeans onto the car seat and snuck over to my horrified younger brother. Some was splattered on the stereo speaker in the door (this was in 1978 and they were the latest thing) and..... the piece de resistance......a tiny mustard-like blob had settled on the back of my father's neck.

Naturally, we *did* stop, mercifully near a flowing creek and somehow Mum managed to sloosh out the worst of it and bury most of my clothes so that I made the rest of the trip back home entirely nude and wrapped in the picnic blanket. But I never told them about the spot on Dad's neck. He didn't want to stop, he got left with the spot!